Calypso
by FangDragon15005
Summary: Astoria knows Draco is keeping a secret from her, and she doesn't care. But Hermione doesn't know, and if she were to ever find out she would care. There is no happy ending here for Draco and Hermione. ONESHOT.


**Calypso**

**Summary: **Astoria knows Draco is keeping a secret from her, and she's fine with that. The only problem is that Hermione doesn't know.

**A/N: **I only own some really expensive nursing books, a stethoscope, and some rather ugly scrubs. Definitely not Harry Potter. By the way, please pay attention to the dates in italicized bold. This story is not in chronological order.

**Definition: **Calypso- to conceal, cover, or hide. Thais- beloved.

_**June 25, 2003**_

Astoria Malfoy, nee Greengrass, knew her husband of three years was keeping a secret from her. She didn't need the cold expanse of bed on her right telling her that, though that was certainly one of the reasons she knew Draco was leading a double life.

As she slowly got out of bed, she placed a hand over her silken nightgown and stroked her deflated abdomen. _One more lost to us_, she thought sadly.

Strolling down the hallway from Draco's room to hers, she wondered why she was upset that Draco hadn't come home the night before. She was used to his absences and his long and frequent business trips. She'd come to terms that he would spend more time away from home back in their first year of marriage, when they'd lost their first child, a little boy born at five months. She was used to his cold demeanor and careless attitude. She'd grown accustomed to his attitude during their engagement, foolishly thinking that she could change him; mold him into the man she wanted him to be. Yes, Astoria had gotten used to all of Draco's quirks, attitudes, and mannerisms.

She'd even gotten used to Draco crying silently late at night, when he thought she was asleep; those rare nights when he was home.

At first, Astoria's heart had ached. She didn't want her husband crying, especially in his study, late into the night. She wanted him to come to her bed and make passionate love to her, the way a husband is supposed to. But that never happened, and thanks be given to Heaven that not even she was stupid enough to interrupt him on those nights and suggest he should.

So, yes, she was quite used to the real Draco.

But what she wasn't used to was him calling out _her_ name during those times.

Hermione.

_**April 12, 1997**_

Draco was sleeping peacefully in his four-poster bed in the Slytherin common room when it happened, his rude and abrupt awakening. He was yanked from his wonderfully relaxing sleep by a pair of small hands shaking him.

"Wharda? Whuf—" he managed to get out before one of those hands was suddenly slapped over his mouth, causing him to panic and struggle even more.

"Shhhh! Are you daft? Do you want your roommates to wake up and find me here?" Hermione whispered harshly in his ear, taking her hand off his mouth while simultaneously getting in his bed and drawing the curtains closed with a wave of her wand.

Meanwhile, Draco used his own wand to cast a silencing charm. _Hopefully it comes in handy_, he thought to himself while picturing a naked Hermione writhing underneath him.

"So, did you want to pick up where we left off last Wednesday before Potter stole you away?" he asked suggestively, scooting closer to Hermione.

"No," she said. "We have to talk about something really important, Draco."

"Ummm, well I'm really hoping you didn't wake me to tell me you wanted to break up with me," he responded, half-heartedly joking.

"This is much more serious than a break-up. But before I tell you, I just want to say that no matter what happens I really do love you. These past few months with you have really made me realize how much you mean to me, and I only hope that you can forgive me."

"Okay, I love adoration as much as the next guy, but you have got to tell me what the fuck you are talking about because contrary to what you said, this really sounds like a break-up speech to me."

"I'm pregnant with your baby. One of the condoms must have broken," she said suddenly, tears seeping from her eyes.

"No," he whispered.

"I'm sorry. I should have listened to you when you said that we should have just used a contraceptive charm, but I really thought the condoms would be effective," she said, staring down at the bed.

"Fuck!"

_**April 16, 1997**_

Four days had passed since she'd last seen Draco, and Hermione was starting to worry. He didn't show up at mealtimes, he ignored her owls, but most disturbingly, he hadn't even bothered to attend class. She knew he had a lot on his mind, but she hoped he would at least tell her what he was thinking. It's not as if she wasn't going through the same worries he was, afterall!

They hadn't really been able to talk after she'd abandoned his room once she realized he wasn't going to say anything other than "No" and "Fuck".

Therefore, when an owl dropped a letter in her soup during lunch, she was quite shocked, but also rather pleased.

_G-_

_Meet me at that place, at that time. _

_Forever. _

_-M._

"So what are you grinning about? You look like the cat that swallowed a canary," Ginny said, bringing Hermione out of her stupor.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Ginny. What were you saying?"

"Nothing of importance apparently," Ginny replied, jokingly. Ginny knew something was wrong with Hermione for months now, but she had been the only one to notice. Ron had been too busy swapping spit with Lavender and Harry had been too busy trailing Malfoy to realize that their friend was going through anything at all. But Ginny hadn't been worried because Hermione had seemed so much more alive, so Ginny had put off asking any questions, giving her friend the privacy she so fervently deserved. But within the last week, Hermione had become pale and her once vibrant eyes lacked their brilliance and sparkle. _Merlin! She doesn't even crack open a book anymore! Something is definitely wrong with her,_ Ginny thought glumly.

"Um, Gin. I have to get going," Hermione said, interrupting Ginny's thoughts.

"To do what?"

"Not to really do anything. I just fancied a nature walk."

"You do realize it's pouring outside, don't you?"

_DAMN!_

"Of course! That's why I'll be stopping by the common room to get my raincoat and rain boots," Hermione replied, quickly recovering. With that, Hermione took one last bite of soup and left the Hall.

No one noticed the blonde-haired Slytherin watching her leave. Nor did they notice when he stood up and followed her out.

As Ginny turned to watch Seamus and Dean taunt Ron over his snogging techniques, she wondered if she should follow Hermione and demand an explanation. But that was only a passing thought; which she would repent not acting upon in just a few short hours.

_**June 30, 1997**_

She was sleeping peacefully on his bed in one of his family's many estates. Her curls were splayed all over his pillow and her hands she held upon her chest. Her mouth was a little open and he could hear a very faint snore, but he only thought of how utterly beautiful she looked.

It hadn't always been that way. There had been fights (which she'd won), slaps (which she'd given), and name-calling (on his part), but now he couldn't imagine being without her. Every single day that passed, he only thought of the mess he'd made with his life. He'd been stupid, foolish, crazy, and ignorant when he'd taken that Mark. He'd continued a legacy he only half-heartedly believed in. He'd joined the ranks of a man he despised and was terrified of. And now he was planning the murder of a man who had only ever shown him trust and respect. _Fuck!_

But now she was giving him redemption. He gently placed a hand over Hermione's slightly protruding belly, and gave a smile of pure bliss. She was giving him a child! He'd done nothing to deserve such happiness, but he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth (she'd taught him that). He wanted, no _needed_ this child. A child made from their love, respect, and trust for each other. No, not a child, a girl. A little, precious girl was in Hermione's womb, growing and developing as she slept and he watched on in awe.

With great regret and sorrow, he rose from the bed and left the room. If she ever found out what he was about to do, she would hate him.

_**July 2, 1997**_

"Draco, dearest, I was hoping we could talk. Hermione is out in the gardens cutting some roses for the house," Narcissa said, entering the room so silently, Draco almost shrieked like a little girl. As he composed himself, his Mother's words began to sink in.

Jumping to his feet, he shouted, in a rather undignified way, "You left her alone! You know what that midwife said! She's too weak to be anywhere alone! I swear, if a single frizzy hair is-"

"Calm yourself, Draco. She is with the midwife, two house-elves, and your father's manservant is watching from a distance. Now tell me what's wrong. Hermione and the child will remain safe while they are here, so I'm not sure I understand what your problem is," Narcissa said, taking a seat across from him.

"That's it, Mother. She's not safe. She will never be safe. My, _our _child will never be safe. What will happen once He kills Potter? All the half-bloods will be treated as second-class citizens and muggle-borns won't even be seen as human. And she's not just any muggle-born, she's Harry Potter's _best fucking friend_! I have placed her and our child directly in harm's way."

"But Draco, that is why we staged her kidnapping. Everyone believes she is dead. They held a funeral for her, notified her family, and everything. The only people who know she is alive and with child are here, in this castle. Once your child is born, we shall fake your death as well. Then you and Hermione can live peacefully here. Of course, your father and I will have to transfer many funds to you, and you and Hermione will have to take my maiden-name as your married name, but if this is what you want, if Hermione is what you want, then you shall have it, my son. A mother's love knows no boundaries, and you are the apple of my eye, Draco. There is not a single thing I wouldn't do for you."

"I know, Mother. I love you, too. And I really do appreciate everything you and father have given for me. It means the world to me that you have accepted Hermione because I really do love her, Mother. I can't imagine a world in which she does not exist. I just feel as if there's a dark cloud around the corner, waiting to mar our happiness. I'm so afraid, Mother," Draco said staring out of the window, onto the vast grounds of their estate in France.

_**September 3, 1997**_

As Ron made his way through the orchard, to the bright tombstone, grief and devastation engulfed him. It had been more than two months since they'd found that awful note. That terrible, malicious, and horrifying note that described the way Hermione would be killed.

At first they'd been hopeful that she hadn't been killed, but as days turned to weeks, and not a single sign from Hermione was received, they'd all had to resign themselves to the fact that she was undoubtedly dead. Hermione was too intelligent to not have found a way to at least send them a sign that she was still alive. No, she was dead.

Harry was a mess. Hermione had been a sister to him. He didn't eat, sleep, and had even hallucinated seeing her, once or twice.

Ginny, Fred, and George weren't their usual perky and happy selves. Though they'd laughed at her study habits and her constant reading, they had loved her dearly and missed her constantly.

McGonagall and Flitwick had even resigned to the surprise of everyone, except Ron. He knew that Hermione had been the ideal student to them and the way they cared for her went above and beyond that of teacher and student.

Molly would cry at any mention of books, brown, or curls. Arthur had gotten rid of all his muggle appliances. Hermione had been a surrogate daughter, beloved and treasured by Arthur and Molly. Her death was an ugly stain upon what had once been such a happy home.

But what had hurt most of all was the way Hermione's parents seemed to have broken when finally told the news. Their daughter had been everything to them, absolutely everything. In fact, they'd been so inconsolable, they'd been obliviated and had any and all memories of Hermione erased.

And Ron, well he was just a shell of the person he'd once been. He rarely laughed, mostly slept, and his once vibrant hair was quickly dulling.

He placed the daisies and heather upon her grave, and silently wept, just as he did every day. He wept for the past, the present, and the future that could have been, but never was.

Yes, Hermione's kidnap and death had destroyed the lives of many.

_**October 16, 1997**_

"What do you mean she's coming early?!" Draco thundered, staring down at the kneeling man.

"My Lord, I was only sent to fetch you with the news. I'm afraid I don't know anymore," Jenkins responded, all the while trembling with fear, waiting for a reply.

But that reply never came because Draco was sprinting down the hall making his way to the room that had been transformed into a hospital room for the delivery of his and Hermione's daughter, who'd decided on coming early.

As Draco reached for the handle, he could hear Hermione's screams through the door. Once inside, all he could see was his Mother, three midwives, two house-elves, and one bleeding Hermione.

"Draco, please help me!" Hermione shrieked once she saw him. "There's something wrong with the baby! I can just feel it!"

"Shhhh, baby. Don't cry. She's fine. Thais will be fine. I swear!" He told her fervently, wiping sweat from her forehead as Hermione pushed yet again.

But this push was too much for Hermione's already weakened body, and she promptly passed out.

"Draco, we need you to back away. The baby is suffocating and we have to get her out!"

"But Hermione-"

"Will be fine. The baby is the one who is in danger. Please, son, if you want to save your child's life you will listen to me," Narcissa told him firmly, but gently.

Draco had always been a dutiful son, and he didn't feel as though this was the best time to not obey his Mother, so he quietly left the room.

Four hours of pacing, worrying, crying, and destroying priceless family heirlooms later, his Mother finally opened the door and came out, with a grim expression on her face.

"Is the baby-" but he couldn't finish his sentence. How does one ask if their child is alive?

"She's alive, Draco, but there's something wrong. She has absolutely no magical traits whatsoever. She's a Squib. And furthermore, the midwives predict any other child you and Hermione may have will also be a Squib."

"But how is that possible? We're both powerful-"

"That has nothing to do with it, Draco. No one knows why some witches and wizards are born Squibs, but it's not yours or Hermione's fault. You both did what you could."

"It just wasn't enough, right? No matter what kind of world we live in, Squibs will never be accepted anywhere. Mother, this changes everything. Hermione will be devastated, and she'll blame me for it. Maybe not to my face, but she will always wonder why _our_ child was born _deformed. _I have to let her go," Draco cried.

"What do you mean?"

"As far as Hermione is concerned the baby died tonight. She will stay here with the midwives until she recovers, then someone will take her to that hovel where the Weasley's live. And Mother; now I must ask you for a favor. You must care for the child. Disappear with her to our island off of Rome. I know it's a lot to ask, but-"

"Draco, give Hermione more credit. She'll love you and the child regardless of what happened. You're acting rashly. Take some ti-"

"No, Mother! I know what happens now. I will be too afraid to have any more children with her. I will always fear that I will have more Squibs as my children, and I'm sorry, but I can't do that. My pride won't let me. And then Hermione will grow to resent me for it. Please allow me to do what is best."

Narcissa knew that what Draco was choosing was wrong, but she had always been blinded by her love for him, so she did what many mothers do, even though they know their child is wrong. They agree to anything their child asks, and pray for forgiveness later.

"Yes, my son."

_**October 17, 1997**_

He watched her sleep. This would be the last time he did so. This was breaking his heart, knowing that all they had worked for would be destroyed in a few short minutes, but for her sake, his sake, and their child's sake , he had to.

He walked away from the bed and towards the bassinet next to the rocker and picked up their child. For a frightened moment he thought she was really dead, but he knew she wasn't. She'd only been given a sleeping dead draught; so that he could fool Hermione into thinking the baby was dead.

He walked back to the bed just as Hermione began to stir.

"Draco, is that the baby? Let me hold her," Hermione whispered every word with such happiness that Draco almost backed out of his plan. But he couldn't. He'd made a decision, and he was going to stick with it.

"She's dead," he told her harshly.

"What?" Hermione replied, tears forming and threatening to escape her chocolate-colored eyes.

"She was born dead. I just brought the body, so you could give her a final kiss. Even though, to be frank, you don't deserve even that. For months I watched you grow round with child, while I gave up my values, friends, and all my family except my mother. I snuck out of school daily to be by your side, and protect you! For what Hermione? For a fucking dead child! You excel at everything, but apparently you can't fucking give birth correctly!" Draco thundered, hating himself with every fiber of his being.

Hermione was too shocked to say anything; she just sat there in the middle of dark green sheets and cried and cried and cried. After what seemed like an eternity, she looked up at him and held out her arms. He knew what she wanted and gently laid the baby in her outstretched arms.

Hermione stared down at the pale baby, taking in every single feature; the slightly upturned nose, the pointed chin, the chubby cheeks, the pouted lips, and the tangle of golden curls atop her head. She was precious! And now she was dead.

"I'll blame you for the rest of my life," Draco said, cruelly.

"You aren't the only one," Hermione replied, sadly. As she handed him back the baby, she only whispered, "I'm sorry" before breaking down into more cries.

Draco quickly left the room, holding their child tightly.

Once he was safely outside of hearing distance, he handed the living child to his weeping Mother and collapsed onto the floor, crying into the crook of one arm, while beating the carpeted floor with his fist.

_**October 20, 1997**_

The funeral of little Thais Malfoy was held on a windy and rainy day. Her parents stood apart from each other as the priest recited prayers as the empty coffin was lowered into the ground and as dirt was placed over her.

Once the priest was done, Draco left immediately, not even bothering to look at Hermione, much less speak to her.

Hermione, however, stayed the entire night weeping over what she thought was her child's corpse. At long last she stood, and pointed her wand at the blank tombstone.

_Thais Malfoy_

_b. Oct 16, 1997-d. Oct 16, 1997_

"_Here will lay her parent's hearts forever more."_

She finally made her way back to the empty castle, and went straight to her room. She would be leaving soon to join Harry and Ron again, but she needed this time to grieve for her daughter. She might never get the opportunity to grieve for daughter the way Thais deserved.

_**October 30, 1997**_

Molly hadn't really wanted to celebrate her birthday. She saw no reason to. Hermione and Dumbledore were dead, Hogwarts was closed, her family was in hiding, and the Dark Lord was in control of the Ministry. However, her family felt they should; no matter how horrible the year had been, they needed to celebrate the birthday of the woman who held them together.

So, on the morning of her birthday, Molly awoke to the smell of bacon, sausages, eggs, waffles, and cake. And despite her previous protests, she was pleased to have her family gathered around her, laughing and eating happily. It was almost perfect.

Just as they were ready to sing "Happy Bithday", a knock was heard on the kitchen door. As one, they all stood up, looking around at each other, wearing the same expression of fear.

"Who is it?" Arthur stated loudly and clearly.

"It's me. Hermione," came the quiet voice of Hermione.

They all rushed to open the door, but Ron beat them to it. He threw the door open, and yes, there she was! He stood there looking at her, but then he was grabbing her and hugging her close to him, tightly.

Amongst the weeping, cheers, and hoopla, Molly quietly whispered to her husband, "It's perfect."

Arthur couldn't agree more.

From a short distance of the house, Draco watched as Hermione was fed, hugged, kissed, and basically fawned over. And for the first time in days, he actually smiled. There had been a time when he thought he wouldn't be able to find where the Weasley's and Potter were hiding, but money buys you all sorts of information. And Hermione's safety and happiness was priceless.

He watched for a few more minutes before he left. He had a meeting with the Dark Lord later, and he wanted to get that out of the way, so he could spend the night with his Mother and his daughter.

_**June 23, 2003**_

Draco was almost done reading over some papers, when his secretary knocked on his door.

"Mr. Malfoy, Auror Weasley is here to see you, if you have a moment. He said it's urgent," Georgiana, his secretary, said, poking her head into his office.

As annoyed as he was at being disturbed, Draco quickly replied in affirmative. No matter how much he hated Weasley, and make no mistake, Draco hated Ronald Weasley with a passion, Draco knew that he had to be on his best behavior around any and all aurors. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to feel the need to start digging into his personal life, especially _her _boyfriend.

As Draco expected, Ron made his way into the office and sat down with a determined expression on his face.

"I appreciate you meeting with me, Malfoy. I know you're a busy man, but I wanted to talk with you first. That is to say, before I speak to Hermione, I have to ask you something," Ron said getting straight into the heart of the matter.

"Why would you need to ask me anything?" Draco sneered.

"Because I know."

Draco felt as if the floor was taken yanked away from beneath him. What did the Weasel know?

"Hermione told me what really happened when she was 'kidnapped'. She told me about the baby she had, your baby, and how she died. She told me everything you said to her, too."

"I regret being as harsh as I was, but I assume you're not terribly upset. After all, if it had played out any other way, you wouldn't have her."

"That's where you're wrong, Malfoy. If she would have lost _our _child, I would have never blamed her. What you did was cowardly and cruel. But, then again, I expect that from you. That's who you are. Hermione wanted to see you for more than what you really are, and you disappointed her. In time, you could have tried for another baby, but you chose the coward's way out. You showed her what a little man you were. And for _that _I am thankful. She needed to see the real you, but I am sorry that her heart had to break in the process. She loved you with all of her. Because that's who she is. She doesn't love or do anything in parts; everything she does, she does with all of her heart and soul. But you already know that. What I came to tell you was that I'm going to ask her to marry me."

"What do you mean marry you?" Draco asked, surprised. Ron wasn't worthy of Hermione. Hell, no one was worthy of Hermione.

"Trust me, I know what you're thinking. I know you think I'm not good enough for her. Hell, I'm sure my own mother thinks that! But I can make her happy, Malfoy. I will make her happy, even if that's all I ever achieve in this life. I need to make her happy to even be able to live, do you know what that's like? To love someone so much, your own happiness depends on theirs? I know she's annoying, stubborn, a swot, and that she chides me like she'd my mother, but I love that about her. I love how passionate she is when she believes in someone or something; I love how she expects the best out of me and how she always makes me better myself; I love her bravery, kindness, and even her morning breath."

"Well, it seems like your mind's made up. I don't know why you needed to see me," Draco replied, with a heavy heart. He knew this day would come. The day when she would be someone else's, but it didn't lessen the breaking of his heart.

"She still loves you. And I think she always will, but I refuse to go into such a binding union as marriage without knowing that she chose me because she wanted to. I don't want her to marry me because I'm the only choice available to her. Please talk to her. I know you're married, but if you and Hermione still love each other, then I won't stand in the way. Like I said, my happiness depends on hers. And if that happiness lies with you, so be it." With that, he rose and left.

_**June 24, 2003**_

It was Wednesday, and Draco knew where she went every Wednesday; the same place he went- their daughter's grave.

As he walked along the pebbled stone path that led to the pavilion that housed their daughter's tombstone, he saw Hermione's kneeling figure. His heart raced wildly in his chest; it had been many years since he'd last seen her face to face, and he wasn't quite sure how she'd react to his intrusion. You see, though every Wednesday from 4 to 6 would find them both at the same place, only Draco knew this. Hermione had never seen Draco there, as he always hid from her, and waited for her to leave.

And every Wednesday after she left he would stay for another hour and pray to whatever God there was that one day his sins would be forgiven.

He was almost to the end of the path when Hermione looked up, and in that instant their eyes met.

"Good evening, Hermione," Draco began. "I hope you don't mind me joining you today."

"Good evening, Draco. If you'd like to stay I have no objections," Hermione responded, coolly.

He nodded his head, and sat down next to where she still knelt once he'd reached the area. He saw the flowers she'd brought this time, white lilies. They were always different. Hermione saw him looking at the flowers and began speaking.

"I wish I knew which ones would have been her favorite. I think that's what hurts me the most. Not knowing anything about her. A mother should know her child, and I don't know anything about mine," Hermione told him quietly.

"I know that wherever she is, she loves you so much, Hermione. I know how much this hurts you, and I can never tell you how sorry I am for everything I put you through. We lost Thais, and I never even allowed you to grieve properly. I was mean, cold, distant, and just an awful person. I need you to know that I didn't mean anything I said to you. It wasn't your fault, and for me to say it was, is the meanest thing I have ever said," he responded, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"I forgive you," she said.

"How can you forgive me?" he asked, surprised at how calmly and easily she said it.

"Because I've given up hope of what could have been. That's what forgiveness is; to give up hope for what could have been. I spent an entire year wishing things were different, thinking about what could have been, but then I realized that wishing doesn't change the past. Nothing does. Unlike the future, the past is set in stone. It happened, and what's been done can't be undone. A part of me will always resent what you said, but I forgive you for it because I understand your pain. I've given up hope of the life that you and I could have had, and through Ron I've begun to live again. With him, I have new hope. I will always love our daughter and I will always love you, but you're both a part of my past. I am glad you moved on. Astoria is such a beautiful woman, and I think she is the perfect Lady Malfoy," She said looking Draco straight in the eyes.

"Hermione, can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"Would it have mattered to you if Thais would have been born a Squib?"

"No. I might not have wanted anymore children because I know how hard it would have been for us to have a child that would have to grow up around magic, but not actually be able to do any of it. But Draco you shouldn't ask things like that. That's not what happened. Thais passed away, and we owe it to her to let her go. I have to leave now. I still love you. I always will," She finished.

She kissed Draco's forehead and their daughter's tombstone, and then started walking away.

"Forever," Draco told her retreating figure loud enough for her to hear.

That night Draco stayed beside the empty grave and cried for Thais, the daughter they could have had and the life the three of them could have lived. He regretted the lies he'd told, and the pain he'd caused Hermione.

And the pain he'd caused Calypso as well. Because the night that Thais died, Calypso was born. His daughter, _their_ daughter. The one he had been ashamed of, and now all he could think of was how stupid and rash he'd been. He'd acted without thinking and now he was forced to live this façade.

_**November 23, 2003**_

Astoria knew her husband was keeping a secret from her, but quite frankly she didn't give a damn anymore. She'd spent too much time worrying about him, and had gotten nothing in return except money, jewels, clothes, and homes. She didn't have any children to fill her days with laughter or a husband who loved her unconditionally.

As she made her way through their gardens, she spotted Draco picking some heather. She approached him slowly, mustering her courage to talk directly and frankly with him, but he beat her to it.

"Astoria, I wish you would stop trying to sneak up behind me."

"I have done no such thing! I just wanted to ask about this weeken-" but he didn't allow her to finish.

"This weekend I will be out of town, and each weekend thereafter. You know that. It's in our marriage contract. It also states that the entire month of October I will be away and each December, as well. It also states-" but this time Astoria cut him off.

"You forget the clause, dearest husband. Once I produce an heir, you will cut your time away from home adequately to fulfill your role as father. And I came out to tell you, that I am with child," she finished proudly.

"Well, Astoria, it's only a matter of time before you lose this one as well. But rest assured, if this one does live, I will spend more than enough time with my child. But don't fool yourself into thinking that I will spend more time than is necessary with you," and with that said Draco apparated away from the Manor.

And Astoria, accustomed to Draco's assholeness, for lack of a better word, went back inside to rest.

_**Same Day, Hours later**_

Draco watched as Calypso ran around the gardens, plucking flowers from their homes and scaring away the tropical birds, who made their nests in the trees, with her screeching. Her honey curls were tumbling out of the crown of heather his Mother had so painstakingly made, and her eyes, so like Hermione's, were filled with laughter and joy.

"She's a beautiful child," Narcissa told him. "I enjoy spending my days with her, and so does your Father. She's so intelligent, well-mannered, and kind."

"Thank you, Mother, for all that you have done for me. I really do appreciate it. And I know that the reason for Calypso being such a delight is the way in which you've helped me to raise her," Draco replied, smiling warmly at her.

"I know you don't want to talk about it, but I heard Hermione married that Weasley boy today."

"I know, Mother. I forgive her."

**End**

**A/N:** June 30 is the night Dumbledore was killed on the Astronomy Tower. And I'm sorry if the ending seems rushed, it was my intention to end it there, and I'm quite pleased with it. You may recognize the definition of forgiveness from the one Oprah gave because it is the one that she gave. I love that definition so much; I just had to use it. So, thank you for reading! I hope you review it, and for those of you following Moments and Tumbling Down, I have been working on them and I'll be uploading new chapters (yes, plural) to both of them this weekend.

Take care guys!


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